


things that go bump in the night

by Kirsten



Series: Brothers [2]
Category: Supernatural, Third Watch
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-19
Updated: 2006-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The call came out over the radio when Bosco had all of ten minutes left on the clock, a disturbance of some kind in a warehouse down on Amsterdam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things that go bump in the night

The call came out over the radio when Bosco had all of ten minutes left on the clock, a disturbance of some kind in a warehouse down on Amsterdam. Bosco groaned, but the call was 55-David, so he responded, flipped the lights and went to the damn warehouse.

It was quiet when he got there, or it seemed that way. Bosco sat in the car for a moment and just looked at the place, wishing that other call had finished ten minutes later so he could be back at the station. Then he said, "Motherfucker," and got out of the car.

He pulled out his flashlight and looked in the windows. He couldn't see anything, so he went to check out the entrance. The lock was all busted up, chains hanging down onto the ground. It looked like it'd been shot open; Central hadn't mentioned any shots fired, but Bosco pulled out his gun and held it ready. Back-up would've been nice, walking into that dark place; Faith should've been there watching his back, but she'd somehow swung New Year with the family.

"Stupid holidays," Bosco muttered, and crept in low through the doorway.

He swung the flashlight around and went on through. It was dark and silent and _dark_ , and way too fucking creepy. Bosco called in his location and told himself he was just being cautious, sensible. He didn't call Central just so he could talk to somebody, no way. Maurice Boscorelli was not that pathetic.

There was a thump further back in the gloom. Bosco moved towards it, his finger on the trigger. He could hear footsteps and somebody breathing fast and heavy. They were heading in his direction. Bosco held himself steady behind an empty crate, counted _one, two, three_ in his head and swung around –

He found himself face to face with Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, with blood running down the side of his face and a shotgun pointing at Bosco's head.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bosco scanned Dean's body and spotted a knife in his belt, and the bulge at Dean's hip said there was another gun ready and waiting for action should the shotgun somehow prove insufficient. "This is you taking care of business?"

"I'm not doing anything illegal." Dean grinned at him and lowered the shotgun.

"Breaking and entering," Bosco said. He didn't return the favour and kept his gun pointed at Dean's face. "Trespassing. Carrying a concealed weapon. Attempted murder. Put the weapons down and put your hands on your head."

"Attempted murder? Dude, where do you get that?"

"You got a shotgun, a pistol and a knife, and those are just the weapons I can see," Bosco said. "I figure you're fixing to kill _somebody_ , if you haven't already. You almost killed me!"

"I did not," said Dean. "I'm a professional. You, on the other hand …"

"What?" Bosco snapped. "What about me?"

Dean scratched the blood on his face. "Well, if I remember rightly, you're Mr Trigger Finger around these parts."

Bosco's jaw dropped, and then he got angry. "You are rapidly becoming a pain in my ass," he snarled in Dean's face.

Dean just grinned. "Bitch, you only wish you were that lucky."

"I'm gonna kill you."

"Don't do that," Dean said, and he pointed at something over Bosco's shoulder. "Help me kill that instead."

"I'm not falling for that old trick," Bosco said, and then he heard a terrible snarling noise behind him. Something shoved into his back and he hit the ground hard, right in the face. His flashlight rolled away and he lay there, dazed, tasted blood in his mouth and felt the heat of it all over his lips and his chin.

The sound of Dean's shotgun blasting into the night brought him back into it, and Bosco pushed himself to his feet and swung around, diving for cover and snatching up his flashlight along the way. The thing, the big hairy monster thing, it had Dean back against the wall with an arm? paw? at Dean's throat. It was choking the life out of him, Bosco could hear Dean gasping and straining against its hold. Bosco saw it raise its other paw thing, saw claws glinting in the beam from his flashlight. The angle was tight from where he took aim, Dean's head about six inches too far to the right. It was a tricky shot, but Bosco knew he could make it.

He put his finger on the trigger and fired, emptied the entire clip into the thing's head.

"Dude," Dean wheezed, struggling to his feet. "Nice shooting. NYPD really takes that serve and protect thing seriously."

"What is that?" Bosco said, staying well back. He was shaking, his flashlight gave him away. He reloaded his gun, hoping like hell Dean wouldn't notice.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Officer Bosco," Dean said, and clapped him on the back. "You got the bad guy. It's dead."

"What the hell is it?"

"Trust me," said Dean. "You don't want to know."

"Tell me what the fuck is going on!" Bosco yelled.

"I don't think that's a story you want to hear in the dark." Dean gave him a considering look, and then said, "When do you get off?"

Bosco glanced at his watch. "Thirty minutes ago. You're coming back to my place. I want to know what the hell just happened here. And what am I supposed to put in the goddamn report?"

Dean shrugged. "That ain't my problem, Officer Bosco."

"Stop calling me that." Bosco sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He cursed. "Ow! Motherfucker."

Dean grabbed his shoulders and touched his face. His hands were gentle and experienced, something Bosco appreciated even as it surprised him. "It isn't broken," Dean said after a moment. "You should probably get some ice on it, though."

"Whatever," Bosco said. "Get out of here before I call this one in."

"I have to take care of that first." Dean jerked his head in the direction of the monster thing. "What precinct are you at? I'll get rid of it and then meet you out front."

Bosco stood and glared at him. He face hurt. He'd just been attacked by a fucking _monster_. He was still shaking. And Dean, the bastard, just stood there acting like nothing had happened, or like it happened every day. Damn it. Damn it! Bosco didn't need this shit. _I don't need this shit,_ Bosco tried to say, but what actually came out was, "I'm at the 55th, corner of King and Arthur. Wait out front."

"Sure," Dean said, and patted him on the ass. "See you in a few, pretty."

"Bastard," Bosco said, and stalked outside.

He got back into the RMP and sat with his hands on the wheel and just breathed. What the hell? What the hell just happened?

His radio said, "55-David, respond. What's your status?"

Bosco punched the wheel a few times and then said, "Central, this is 55-David. Show that possible disturbance a prank call. Nothing doing at this end. I'm calling it a night."

"10-4, David," said the radio.

Bosco sighed and sat still for a few seconds longer, then started the engine. He grinned for a second, and then he stopped grinning, because it hurt. Still, he felt a little happier. So he had a broken face. At least he got out of the paperwork.


End file.
